I work in retail

therefore I drink.

 

Maybe that’s not an accurate statement – I drink b/c I am a SAHM of a sassy 3 year old and I am trying to hold it all together.  But today, for once, my post is not about something she has done that has almost pushed me to the edge.

 

It’s about work.  In retail.  (Michelle – you will certainly appreciate what I am about the fly off the handle about.  And luckily Michelle is the only person who reads this blog that knows EXACTLY what I am about to blow my lid about.  Bless your heart…  XOXO)

 

For those of you that don’t know, I work part time in a maternity/infant wear store.  It’s an outlet (not cheap clothes, but an outlet for me to get out of the house)…I get away and meet people.  Today I had the MOST FRUSTRATING CUSTOMER (and her daughter) EVER!  I have the door propped open.  It’s chilly but not frigid.  I have a sale rack outside and like to keep the door open (not that I could chase shoplifters in my 3 inch heel boots but it’s the thought that counts, right?).  This woman comes in and her daughter is pregnant.  And she wants to pick out clothes for her.  Immediately she starts complaining about the cold air.  I close the door to make HER happy.   She pulls 432 things off the rack and lines up 42 pairs of tights on the counter…and then tells me that her daughter is going to meet her.  GREAT!  Can’t wait for that moment. 

 

And the daughter comes to see “Mommy”.  She looked about 12 but she was married.  And based on the conversation I heard from the dressing room she’s got her hubby by the short hairs.  And she calls her mom “Mommy ” – I don’t think I have done that since I reached puberty.  So she starts to try on shirts/dresses/skirts and I am doing my best to help her get the sizes she needs.  But it’s obvious she is very hippy-like and nothing here will satisfy her.  And she isn’t the least bit shy in telling me what she thinks of the clothes.  Let me share some advice ‘BUY YOUR PRE-PREGNANCY SIZE” is bullshit.  So when I tell you a medium might be a better purchase than a small – trust me.  I’ve been there – you, dear customer, haven’t!  And let me say the condescending attitude doesn’t work well.  I understand you are bitchy but please don’t talk down to me.  You don’t know that I have taken MBA classes and finished with an impressive GPA from college.  You don’t know that I am fluent in another language.   You know nothing about me except that I work here.  That I am the smiling face that greeted you with sincerity when you walked in the door.  I can count the drawer, and I can use a computer and I like to get out of the house a couple times a week.

 

Sometimes I hate retail.  Maybe that’s why I was never a waitress.  I don’t need/want the grief.

 

PS – the bandana that you are wearing over your head and those stupid Uggs – they really don’t make a statement.  If you are trying to be comfortable – come talk to me at the beginning of February.  Let me know how comfortable you are then. 

 

Cheers to all you that do it daily. You are better than me!

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5 thoughts on “I work in retail

  1. Michelle says:

    LOVE the sarcasm! Luckily I can count on one hand in two years the bad customers I had…but I can tell you that at least two of them had the exact same scenario 😉

    I feel for you…push back if you need too and don’t feel guilty! XOXO

  2. Michelle says:

    P.S. Everyone is sleeping and I’m catching up on your blog…why am I still awake???? Great reading by the way…I’ll be chuckling up to bed 🙂

  3. lifeonthetailofacomet says:

    I didn’t call my mother mami for years but when she started getting frail I started again, either that or mamita. It seems to fit annd she likes it.
    As for the other pain in the a** stuff, I have no tolerance. Ther are some people that just suck the stinkin life out of you no matter what. YOu get that crap in the medical world as well. I’d last maybe 15 minutes if I waited tables- less if i had a needy customer.

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